


Man Down

by DustToDust



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war never broke Captain Cullen Rutherford, but adjusting back to life back home just might if he doesn't swallow his pride and look for the help he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a [beautiful fanart](http://art-by-g.tumblr.com/post/137856047010/anonymous-gift-commission-for) by the very talented artist G over at [Art-By-G](http://art-by-g.tumblr.com/) commissioned as a gift by someone anonymously.
> 
> Request for these two going to group therapy for PTSD and Alistair grows fond of the new guy super quickly as they just click.

Despite being nearly half an hour early Cullen's not the first one in the room and he falters when the single man there turns to look at him. He's wearing jeans with holes and boots scuffed from constant use. Not a therapist of any kind. He's got the muscular build of a grunt, hair that rules him out of the Marines, and shadows under the eyes that look like they could rival the ones Cullen sees in the mirror.

"New guy, huh?" The other man offers him a grin that looks easy even as he does his own examination. Cullen wonders what he sees. "I'd make a joke about this being a new level of hell, but it's the VA and you already know that. It's really not that bad anyway. Hell, you don't even need to talk if you don't want to."

"That doesn't seem like it'd work," Cullen eases into the room a bit more cautiously. He takes in the loose grouping of chairs and couches. None of them are separated enough from the obvious focal point for his comfort, and there's no room to create his own space.

"We bitch," the man kicks at the chair closest to him in invitation. "About everything and anything. That's all therapy is supposed to be isn't it?"

"No idea," Cullen takes the seat and turns it so his back is to the wall instead of the door. It's not as good as a spot in the corner but it won't make his shoulders itch at being exposed. "Never been to one of these things before."

"It's not bad, just think of it as a less structured AAR," the man repeats with a lazy shrug and Cullen relaxes a little because this is familiar enough for him. Even if the civvies they're both wearing makes the talks a little more shocking than it should be. There's an ease in talking to a fellow soldier that Cullen's missed. "The hardest part is just walking through the door. Well, no I guess that's not true. Parking is the true nightmare really!"

Cullen barks out a laugh because that's true. For the size of the hospital there's shockingly little parking for it and he'd almost crashed trying to get the spot he did eventually get.

"Rutherford," Cullen offers and then grimaces as he corrects himself. " _Cullen_ Rutherford, I mean."

It's simple in the military. Last names unless you're really close buddies, and only when off duty. Cullen always trips over which name he should give. Neither of them is currently in so there's no protocol to follow on this.

"Alistair Theirin," the man shoots off a cocky two finger salute and doesn't say anything about his fumbling. Probably used to it himself. "So, if it's not terribly pushy, why'd you decide to come anyway?"

And just like that, all the ease is gone. It's like magic, really, how fast Cullen's whole mood plummets. He picks at a scab on his hand that's been there for months and bites the tip of his tongue on the reflexive urge to tell the man to fuck right the hell off. It's a normal question. He should be suspicious if it isn't asked. This is why he's here after all. To _talk_.

"I wrapped my truck around a tree," Alistair says into the silence as it stretches out into discomfort. He shatters the rising tension with a grin. Wry and entirely self-mocking. "Had a nice cocktail of meds and tequila that made it seem like such a _great_ idea at the time."

"Driving?" Cullen asks with a smile that feels like a grimace at the mention of meds. Painkillers most likely and Cullen's all too aware of how that slippery slide goes.

"Killing myself," Alistair denies with an ease that's shockingly candid. He looks Cullen in the eyes as he says it. Neither ashamed nor embarrassed by it, and Cullen swallows as he looks away. Back to his hand because that level of raw honesty is impressive and shaming.

"I-" Impressive, brave and Cullen feels small next to it. He doesn't need to be here. This is for people who _really_ need the help and all he's going to do is take that resource away from them when they need it most. "My sister," Cullen explains and shrugs. Not quite looking up at Alistair. "She signed me up for this. Somehow. And...."

Cullen trails off and stares at the wall just over the other man's headas he winces under the roiling ball of shame and guilt that hadn't let him ignore his alarm this morning. 

She'd cried. Fat tears that rolled down her cheeks as she confessed that he scared her sometimes, but it was the sight of the bruise around her wrist --"It doesn't really hurt," she'd lied-- that had nearly destroyed him. He blows out a breath and rubs the back of his neck hard. He _does_ need to be here. For no other reason than that.

"I get angry," and paranoid and high when he can't deal with the strength of them both at the same time. Extremely so, and there's days Cullen can't remember as anything but blurs of emotion wringing him dry along with the absolute and almost hysterical certainty that someone was hunting him in his own home.

It's not a complete answer but Alistair nods. Reading in-between the lines and not pushing. Cullen's grateful for it even as a couple of guys wander in with steaming cups of coffee. He can see three more out in the hallway and it's almost time to start. Cullen's disappointed. Surprisingly so and not just for the fact he's going to have to try to open up to more people.

"Hey," Alistair reaches out slowly, the motion drawing Cullen's eyes back in time so that he can see it before the man touches his arm. A small courtesy that Cullen appreciates. "Say as little or as much as you want," Alistair grins, lopsided and full of humor. A joke he wants to share with Cullen that relaxes him some. "Really, don't worry about it. I can talk enough for five men if needed. Just flail or something in my general direction when you need me to have your back and I got it for you."

Cullen smiles and leans back in his chair as a man dressed a little too professionally stops outside the door to talk to the people lingering out there. He has a single folder and lanyard with IDs around his neck. It doesn't take a lot to figure out who he is. The man's older and has the kind of soft face that makes him think he's automatically nice. A dumb assumption but Cullen will take what comfort he can.

Like Alistair's hand still lingering on his arm. Warm and far too comforting. Familiar too and that makes Cullen pause. His mind stalling a bit as another tension rises --slow, almost reluctantly-- as he turns his head to look at Alistair again.

The man is facing the door but he's watching Cullen carefully, and that solidifies that thought. Cullen licks the backs of his teeth and thinks about pulling away for half a second.

The weight of Alistair's hand is comforting though, and he rather likes the way the man's lips curve up when he leans towards him and doesn't pull away. The change in tension is welcome too. Edgy enough to push out the suffocating dread he's been dealing with all morning. Not completely, but enough that Cullen thinks he can get through this group meeting without losing his temper by concentrating on it.

"There's a coffee shop a block away," Alistair leans in close just before the therapist comes in. Voice low enough not to carry. "If you want to have some caffeine and not talk for a while after this."

The therapist introduces himself shortly after that with a smile that's not as warm or inviting of secrets as Alistair's, but Cullen thinks he can wait to reserve judgement for the moment. At least he has coffee to look forward to afterwards to hold him over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be more plot here, but obviously that didn't happen. At all. Nope. Just PWP.

It's not terrible, but Cullen still feels like he'd rather be just about anywhere else even though he doesn't talk all that much in the end. He's left frustrated and relieved by that. Dual emotions that he swallows back down along with the urge for something stronger than the coffee he doesn't need.

Alistair doesn't look like he needs coffee either and not just because of the bags under his eyes. The man's all over the place as they walk. Physically and mentally it seems, and Cullen quickly loses the trail of the conversation in minutes.

The other man talks with his hands when he's nervous. Cullen noted it earlier during the meeting when Alistair had done a remarkable job of deflecting some pointed questions. Remarkable in how obviously the maneuver was done and in how it still actually worked. By the time they reach a block with several small store fronts and cafes Cullen is actively dodging Alistair's hands and elbows.

They're outside an apartment building when Alistair actually stumbles. His feet turn towards the door but the rest of him keeps going forward. He slows in the confusion and half turns to go in before jerking to a stop.

There's a series of pinkish scars on Alistair's hands. Burns on his knuckles that trail up under the fraying cuffs of his shirt. Flesh that is slow to heal because hands never stay still long enough not to tear the wounds open again. Cullen takes that into account as he calculates how long it'd take a man to get another car after failing suicide in one. Longer than Alistair's been out of the hospital, and long enough for the man to get a place in walking distance of the VA apparently.

Cullen bites the inside of his lip as he looks up at what has to be Alistair's place. Neither of them really needs the coffee. The excuse has already played out long enough.

"Do you-" Cullen catches a bit of the nerves Alistair has been showing and licks his dry lips before clearing his throat and starting again. "Do you want to skip the coffee?"

"Oh god, can we?" Alistair asks immediately with obvious relief. "How embarrassing is it that I was worried about dropping coffee all over myself because I'm too busy thinking about-"

Thinking what, Cullen doesn't find out because Alistair cuts himself off with a loud and fake cough. Pressing a fist to his mouth as his cheeks redden in embarrassment but his eyes are dark enough that Cullen's got a damn good idea of what he's trying not to say anyway. "Not really that embarrassing."

"Right then, I live here. If you want to come up for some skipped coffee. Or no coffee or whatever we're calling it now," Alistair turns to the building in an apparent attempt to cut his own rambling off with action. "Uh, sorry, I don't normally do this by the way."

Cullen follows and doesn't speak until they're in a creaky elevator going up to the top floor. The air between them is heavy with that pleasant tension that had pulled him through the meeting earlier. 

"Neither do I," Cullen confesses and wonders if he can reach out to touch the other man now or not. "Not sober anyway, but you're...." Funny, understanding, there in a way Cullen has started doubting others are. A stupid thought to have for a man he's only known a few hours, but Cullen's always put a lot of weight on first impressions.

"Devastatingly good looking? Wonderfully clever?" Alistair cracks with a grin but there's a slight waver to it that bolsters Cullen's resolve even though he's past the point of backing out now.

There's muscle and hard bone under his fingers when he slowly reaches out to curl them around Alistair's wrist. He's hot to the touch and it turns the expectant tension to pure electricity.

"I think you are kind of wonderful," Cullen jokes. Truthfully he wouldn't object either label but he'd add cute or adorable to it. Especially when Alistair goes red again under the honest compliment.

The elevator opens with a dull ping and Cullen finds himself being led out by his own grip. "That's me at the end of the hall. All the way down there. Please don't say anything else that's going to make me want to kiss you right now. There's a little old lady in 612 that darns my socks but will _never_ let me live that down. Wynne's an evil, _evil_ woman."

Cullen laughs a little as Alistair drags him down the hall. His ears and the back of his neck still delightfully red and a curl of mischievousness makes Cullen want to push a bit. He strokes the inside of Alistair's wrist with his thumb and counts the doors they're passing.

"Run then, because I've been thinking about nothing but kissing you for the past two hours," Cullen doesn't have to work to make his voice low and rough, because it's not entirely a lie.

Alistair's broader than Cullen and barely rocks when Cullen walks into his back when he abruptly stops. Cullen wipes the grin off his face as he catches the number on the closest door and doesn't back away from Alistair when he spins. Red again, or still, but that doesn't matter anymore when they kiss.

Alistair's arm winds firmly along Cullen's lower back. Pulling him in tight as he bypasses the normal exploratory brush of lips and goes straight for _devouring_. Alistair's hungry and dominating, stealing the amusement Cullen felt and most of his higher functions as well.

"Do you have any idea how much you lick your lips?" Alistair asks when he pulls back. Voice thick and rough even as he's whining. 

Cullen doesn't and he doesn't care. Alistair trips a little when Cullen pushes him forward. No longer thinking about anything else but getting to the end of the hall. Now.

Alistair fumbles the keys and Cullen doesn't fare much better when he snatches them away, but someone must be looking down on them favorably because they manage to stumble into the apartment --small and not neat so much as devoid of objects-- before any hands wander into dangerous areas.

"What do you want?" Alistair asks between wet, sucking kisses. Pressed to his lips and neck and whatever skin is closest. Cullen groans because that's not a fair question to ask with Alistair's full weight pressing him into the wall next to the door and dragging his teeth lightly down Cullen's throat. "What do you like? I can- Oh!"

Alistair is all sleek muscle and soft skin under his shirt. His back is broad and firm under Cullen's hand as he runs both hands up it. Dragging his shirt up a bit before going back down. He's wearing a belt so Cullen lets his hands curve over his ass on top of the scratchy jeans. He lets his own legs slide apart more as the grip makes Alistair buck forward into him. Hard already or getting there enough for Cullen to feel the evidence of it through their clothing, and that's enough to narrow all the possibilities down to one thing. "I want you to fuck me."

"Yeah," Alistair grits out on a gasp before pushing away from Cullen with enough force it feels like he's ripping himself away. "Yeah, ok. I can definitely do that."

Alistair's bedroom looks more lived in but Cullen glances over the mess of clothing and books to the bed that takes up most of the room. An easy feat because the room is small and that's all the patience Cullen has for looking around. He wants Alistair's lips and hands on him again, with no clothing barrier this time.

He pulls his shirt and undershirt off with an easy tug over his head and reaches down to pull the laces on his shoes loose before noticing Alistair is still. His boots are already off and his belt and jeans undone, but his fingers twist in the cloth of his shirt as he barely pulls it up. His expression is tight and grim enough to chill the heat in Cullen a bit. "Alistair?"

"It's not pretty," Alistair warns with a tight smile that's not amused or happy at all. He pulls the bottom up just enough that Cullen can see the beginning of a scar. He looks up and Cullen can feel his eyes raking over his chest. The man is noting everything about him, marking the lack of scars. Cullen's what most guys call 'lucky.' All his damage is mostly internal. "Just saying. It can surprise people if I don't say something first. Led to a few interesting conversations about strange people running down the hall screaming in horror."

The joke is weak and poorly timed, another deflection. Cullen takes his time to finish pulling the laces loose before deliberately sitting on the edge of the bed to pull them off. He doesn't give any reassurance because Alistair's not looking for it. He's warning him. Giving him an out Cullen doesn't want or need. He hooks his thumbs under the band of his jeans and boxers to pull them both off at the same time. Falling onto his back so he can arch his hips up enough to push them down and off. 

The heat is back in Alistair's eyes when Cullen looks back up. He's wearing a long sleeved shirt that's tight enough to catch on his head as he pulls it off. Cullen appreciates the seconds that gives him to stare, because Alistair is right. The scars on his chest are not pretty.

The mass of scar tissue --old mixed in with new-- tells a grim tale that Cullen can read with the few bits of information Alistair's parted with. There's scars old enough to have gone pale. Scattered and pocked, shrapnel wounds from an explosion. The newer scars are bigger. Shiny and pink, stretched across his chest and lower stomach in patches. Burns, from the accident. 

Cullen expected it. He's still glad for the seconds he has to see it, take it in, and deal with it enough that what's showing on his face when Alistair looks up from stepping out of his pants isn't anything to bring back that hesitation.

"Does it hurt still?" Is the only question Cullen asks when Alistair makes his way over to the bed. He lets one hand hover over a particularly thick mass of scars, not quite touching as he keeps his eyes on Alistair's. 

"No," Alistair's smile twists and it's better now even though he guides Cullen's hand away from his front. Placing it on his back which is smooth and feels free of any marks. "Not anymore at least, but, uh, I can't really feel much around them. So, yeah, there's that."

"Alright," Cullen leans back to flop on the bed again, pulling on Alistair to get him to follow him down. Pulling until they're pressed together firmly, and there's a part of Alistair nudging against Cullen's leg that's definitely able to feel.

Alistair is heavy and the mattress sinks under their combined weight as they kiss again. Lips sliding together sweetly even as their hips slot together. Cullen's dick sliding against Alistair's smoothly enough to make them both moan. Cullen can feel the scars against his chest as Alistair ruts against him, but he keeps his hands on the man's back where he knows he can feel each touch as he lets them wander.

"Shit," Alistair pulls back slightly with a laugh that Cullen swallows. His fingers weaving through the gelled strands of Alistair's head enough to keep him still for several moments before the man pulls back again. "Wait, wait! Condoms, man. I got to-"

"Yeah, fine," Cullen has to force himself to let Alistair go, because they have an end goal here and condoms are not optional. No matter what his dick's saying when Alistair's welcome weight disappears in a mad scramble under the bed for something.

Cullen pulls himself up further on the bed and admires the view Alistair makes. There's a smattering of freckles dusting the top of his shoulders that go down his back to match the ones across his cheeks.

"I swear I had a bedside table. Once. Not sure what the hell- Hah! Knew I couldn't be out," Alistair flips over and Cullen can see the edge of a condom clutched in one hand for a moment before he's being kissed again. Brief and hard and there's a small tube in Alistair's hand too when he pulls back. He kneels up over Cullen and squints at it. "This stuff doesn't expire, right? It, uh, might have been a while since I last used this."

"Define 'a while,'" Cullen sits up in a smooth motion that distracts Alistair and reaches for the condom. It at least has an easy to find date on it that's nowhere near being up. "It's fine."

Cullen might not have done this sober, but he hasn't been clean for all that long. There are nights Cullen still can't clearly remember, and it's a minor miracle every test he's gone through has come up negative. A miracle because he really doubts he was all that concerned with condoms or lube when he was out of his mind. 

Cullen shakes the thoughts off and focuses back on now. On the bright room and smiling man kneeling between his legs.

"You say that now," Alistair's smiling. Unaware of the dark turn of Cullen's thoughts as he rolls the tube in his large hands. Edging closer between Cullen's legs until his knees are pressing against Cullen's inner thighs. "But just wait, you'll be saying something entirely different ifffffff, oh, fuck!"

Alistair's dick is hot and heavy in Cullen's hand as he slowly strokes him. Pulling up firmly just to listen to Alistair stutter. Mouth still moving to talk even though all that's coming out is groans. Cullen grins and presses his thumb in under the flared head a bit just to see Alistair's chest hitch before letting go. Exchanging the tube for the condom from the man's lax fingers he says, "If I say anything that isn't your name and 'yes' you're not doing your job right. Put that on."

The lube is slick and smooth, warmed from Alistair's hands working the tube. There's a scent to it when he opens it, but it's faint and Cullen can't really figure it out as he eases a finger inside himself. It's not important. The angle is a little awkward to stretch himself open with the way Alistair's got his legs pushed open but it's worth it to watch the way the man goes very still over him. Eyes intense and zeroing in as Cullen adds a second finger. 

"I want to do that," Alistair says, and the hand holding the half torn open condom presses into Cullen's thigh. Pushing up which makes things easier for Cullen and lets the man see better. "Later, sometime. Wow, that's hotter than it should be."

It's a strange thing to find funny but Cullen laughs and tests himself. Spreading the fingers in him even as Alistair turns his face to hide a grin against his shoulder. _Later_ is a stupid thing to talk about when hooking up with a stranger, but it sounds like a promise from Alistair. One that Cullen's surprisingly confident about trusting.

"Come on, put the condom on," Cullen pulls his fingers out and pushes against Alistair's chest. Waiting for the thing barrier to be rolled on --Alistair's fingers shaking slightly and Cullen understands that feeling too well right now-- before squeezing out the last bit of slick from the tube. It spreads easily and Alistair wraps a hand around the back of Cullen's neck. Arching up into his hand and pulling him into a deep kiss that's almost sweet enough to distract them both.

"How do you-?" Alistair asks when they pull apart. Strain evident in his voice as he pulls Cullen's hand off him, and Cullen moves before he even finishes the question. Turning around to get on his hands and knees. Shivering a little when Alistair swears and drags his hands down his back to Cullen's ass. Parting his cheeks and rubbing his slicked dick in the crack for a bit.

Alistair takes his time. Almost teasing with the head of his dick as he slowly presses inside of Cullen. Teasing them both and Cullen's pushing back for more sooner than he should. It hasn't been all that long for Cullen but it's an adjustment every time. He's very aware of each inch of Alistair sinking into him. Slow and steady, gentle in a way that makes Cullen shake a little and arch up with a gasp.

Alistair is a blanket of heat over and around him. Heated body and breath but there's no direct touch between them right now. Nothing except for the rough slide of his dick pushing in. It leaves Cullen unable to think about anything else to distract him from the feeling of Alistair pulling back to push in a little further. 

Fucking his way in deeper because Cullen can't make himself relax enough to just take it. His body is tense and he _loves_ the drag of Alistair inside him. Loves each thrust in, each broken noise Alistair makes, and the teasing hints of touch that only become more when the other man thrusts in one last time.

A long slide in to the hilt that leaves his hips flush with Cullen's ass and then Alistair is all over him. Stretched out over his back to press down on him from above, face buried in his neck, and both hands running up and down Cullen's thighs as he mutters muffled words. Not moving at all, and Cullen's not really sure whose benefit it's for.

He aches a little but that will disappear fast. Maybe come back later as a reminder that Cullen won't mind. He pushes back with a sigh, and is caught and held still by Alistair who is still muttering indistinct things into his neck. The cadence every bit as slow and measured as the dick splitting Cullen open. Shockingly familiar almost.

"Are you," Cullen gasps out before running out of air and having to suck in another breath. "Praying?"

The chest pressed to his back shakes and he feels Alistair turn his head enough for soft lips to run across the lobe of his ear. "Please, oh Lord, please don't let me come right now. I'll start going back to church if you just let me not blow right this second," his laugh is hoarse and shakes through them both. "You feel so damn good around me Cullen. I _need_ the help."

Alistair still hasn't moved, and that stillness is strange. It forces Cullen to focus on where they're joined in a way he's not used to. Makes him so very aware of the hard dick that has him stretched open and every bit of skin where they're touching. The calloused fingers trailing up his leg to curve around his ass and cup the muscle firmly. Cullen almost thinks he can feel Alistair's eyes too. Hungry and dark.

"You're quiet," Cullen takes a deep breath and pushes back again. It doesn't do much as closely pressed together as they are, but the shift jolts a hiss from Alistair. "I thought you'd talk more than this."

"I _can_ talk if you want me to, but I really, really shouldn't," the laugh that come out with those words trails off into a moan when Alistair rocks a little. Getting one hand on the bed for leverage. The shift and little thrusts make Cullen moan as Alistair moves just right to make his own dick twitch in the air. "I'll get stupidly sappy in the next few minutes and say something really dumb that'll get me kicked out of my own bed before either of us gets the happy ending of not drinking coffee."

The bed dips as Alistair pushes himself up and resettles himself behind Cullen. Lips press hard into his lower back once before Alistair grips Cullen by the hips. "So, it's really better if I just shut up right now."

Cullen doubts there's much Alistair could say that would warrant that reaction and is a little disappointed he won't hear what lust dumb things the man might say. He keeps his own mouth shut though and shivers at the air that now feels cold along his exposed back. A discomfort that fades away when Alistair grips him tight and begins to _fuck_ him.

He starts with a slow but hard rhythm. Using his grip to pull Cullen back onto his dick as if to make up for the stillness. Angling him down or up, changing the angle until Cullen hisses and swears as a thrust brushes by his prostrate.

"There?" Alistair groans and holds Cullen still to repeat the motion. Cullen jerks and shouts at the searing heat of it jolting through him. Panting as much from the pleasure as from how easy it is for Alistair to hold him still even as Cullen bucks under him. "Yeah. Oh, fuck, yes! There. Ok, I got it."

_Fuck yes, he's got it. Right there!_

Cullen thinks he says it out loud, but Alistair needs no instructions as he picks up the pace. Leaving slow and gentle far behind. Nailing Cullen's prostrate more often than not until his arms buckle under him. Bringing him face first into the mattress and letting Cullen reach down for his own dick. He's hard and leaking enough that his hand slides so very sweetly over it. Moving almost in time with Alistair's thrusts.

There's no noise in the room but the slide of their skin --slick and obvious-- and the sounds they both make almost involuntarily. Or if there is any other sound Cullen doesn't hear it. Not over the pounding of his own heart and the ragged panting that fills his ears when Alistair curls back around him. His long thrusts turning shallow and quick with the change, and Cullen speeds up his own hand to match. 

Twisting his hand on each upstroke. His teeth ache from it and it's enough that the next hard thrust from Alistair sends him over. Making him come even as he keeps moving his hand.

Cullen gasps for air as he shakes from it, and Alistair makes a wounded noise that's half curse as his movements go jerky. Following Cullen over the edge or protesting the way his body clamps down on his dick, Cullen doesn't know which as he wrings every last drop of come out of himself. Riding out the last few thrusts from Alistair and the slide of his skin over Cullen's back until the man collapses on him. Pushing them both flat on the bed.

Cullen grunts and squirms until he can get his hand out from under him. He smears the mess on it on the sheet far away from them and then just lays there. Tired, sweaty, and utterly satisfied with both the world and life in general. A glow of good feeling that will slide away the moment he reaches out for his clothes so he enjoys it while he can.

He doesn't protest Alistair's weight on him. Cullen can still breathe and he's enjoying the closeness of it. The contact of skin to skin, and the soft dick still inside of him. Alistair takes the opportunity to stir just as Cullen wonders if he can take a quick nape.

"Stay a bit?" The man asks. Voice gruff and sleepy as he rubs a hand against Cullen's side.

"Yeah," Cullen agrees and sighs when Alistair doesn't move at all. Ten more minutes and it'll be uncomfortable, but for the moment it's just fine. Cullen relaxes and let's himself enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff.

"Here."

Cullen wakes up from a half daze with a start and a hissed in breath as something _cold_ is shoved against the small of his back. He swats backwards even as he rolls and Alistair is laughing like the ass he is. Cullen kicks him hard before reaching for the cold metal against his bare thigh. His fingers curl around a can and he's surprised when he looks at the drink Alistair went to get.

"Where did you get this?" It's a familiar energy drink in a can larger than the ones they used to give out in the chow halls overseas. The smell when he pops the tab is filled with memories and makes his mouth water until he takes a long drink of the sweet drink. "Wow. I didn't think they sold these around here."

"Tricky marketing scheme. Give the Army a bunch of free cans and reap the rewards of sales when the soldiers come back addicted to them," Alistair says with a grin as he crawls up to lay next to Cullen. His body still overheated where their skin touches. He's got his own can, yellow, and it's already half gone by the way he tilts it up. "I get them from the dollar store down the street. Not too bad of a deal if you ask me. Just don't buy anything else from them off brand. Swear I almost bought it on some knock off Doritos."

Cullen grins because he can imagine Alistair almost dying from any number of really inane things. The humor eases the sting from the word 'addiction' being brought up, and banks the reflexive anger he usually feels at the reminder. The familiar taste of the drink is linked with good memories. His squad horsing around as they shoveled food in their faces and tried any number of different ways to squirrel away the small energy drinks without being caught at the chow hall doors.

"Let me guess, they were poisoned," Cullen says before he settles in to lay more firmly against Alistair. Feeling relaxed and comfortable as he listens to the man elaborate on a convoluted plot where the chip manufacturers are out to get him. It's one of their better days, and Cullen wishes it would not end.


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a note on his fridge from Mia, and Cullen frowns until he sees the date on it. Tension leaks away slowly as he realizes he did _not_ in fact sleep through someone entering his home. He’d only missed seeing it when he returned late the night before from Alistair’s. The annoyance stays though. Over the fact that Mia had let herself in again as well as the fact that she’s familiar enough with his...issues to put the date on the note. That she _knows_ he would need that reassurance. The irritation tastes of failure and shame, something all too well known to Cullen. The scrape of a key in the front door followed by a long knock that hasn’t even faded before the door is open only doubles it.

“Hello?” Mia’s voice is loud and obvious as she lets herself in. Making as much noise as she can kicking off her shoes and removing her coat for his benefit. “Cullen, are you up?”

Cullen sighs and lets his head rest against the cool metal of the fridge before answering. Using it to both soothe the headache he woke up with and to try to cool his temper. It’s all too easy to snap and bite in the morning for him, but guilt still has a stranglehold on Cullen. He’s better than this, and his sister does not deserve being the brunt of his problems.

“Cullen,” Mia says from the hallway. A hint of a question that’s almost buried under the very carefully neutral tone she takes. The one that hides everything from disappointment to sadness, and Cullen can almost feel the weight of her eyes. Studying him from head to toe and looking for something. 

“Morning,” Cullen croaks out, his voice rough and dry as it always is first thing in the morning. He doesn’t sigh again as he lifts his head and opens the freezer to take out the canister of coffee. “I just got up. Did you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Mia says with a bit of cheer that’s forced, but not as much as her smile when he finally looks at her. It stretches painfully across her face and does little to hide the clear disappointment on her face. Her eyes are fixed below his face before she turns to his seldom used stove. “Why don’t you put that on while I make some oatmeal.”

The frustration doubles but Cullen bites it back and does as she asked. Concentrating on measuring out grounds and water as he leans against the counter. The edge presses against hip, reminding him of the bruises he’d only discovered after leaving Alistair’s apartment last night. Small, inconsequential things that will fade in another day, but the reminder that they’re there brings Cullen’s attention back to all the other signs of the previous day. It’s enough to cut down on his mood, enough that when he turns to Mia the small smile he’s wearing is real.

Not that she notices it. Mia is staring down at the pan she brought out intently. Giving the simmering oats more attention than they need as she blinks. Slow and deliberate.

“I-” Cullen starts then stops, guilt coming back to the forefront of everything. He clears his throat before continuing awkwardly. “The group wasn’t all that bad.”

It falls flat between them and Mia doesn’t look pleased at all as she stirs. “Oh? That’s good.”

She’s wearing an oversized sweater, one that has sleeves long enough to pull up almost to her thumbs. Cullen stares at them and is reminded of what exactly they cover. Fading to pale green and yellows by now, but the bruise will always be visible there to him for as long as he lives.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was-” Cullen reaches up to rub at the tension gathering in the muscles of the back of his neck. Easing it to try to ease his headache. The heel of his hand catches on the skin on the side of his neck, and the stubble burn he’d woken up to this morning from Alistair’s parting kiss. A long thing that had almost seen them unclothed again before Cullen managed to pull himself away.

“I’ll be going back. Next week,” Cullen wrenches his mind away from thoughts of Alistair with difficulty. He reaches for two mugs from the dishwasher and squints at them trying to figure out if they were clean or not. “The sessions are weekly.”

“Oh, good,” Mia’s voice is still perfectly neutral, but she’s blinking more now. Faster and more obviously as Cullen stands by the coffee maker like an ass as his sister tries not to cry.

He doesn’t like the mix of helplessness and guilt that eat away at him, but it really is nothing less than what he deserves for what he’d put Mia through. For what he’s put their whole family through. It smothers the ever present anger in him and makes his body feel heavy and stupid as he shifts from foot to foot. It’s hard to breathe as he stares at Mia not knowing what to do until the answer comes to him with the suddenness of all simple answers do, leaving him feeling stupid for not knowing from the start.

Mia sniffs a bit when he carefully wraps his arms around her. He tries to tug her away from the stove but she’s stiff and stubborn for a few moments before giving in. Reluctantly. Cullen wonders if the guilt of this will ever go away. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Mia laughs but there’s a choked edge to it that speaks of tears, and a shine to her eyes as she finally looks at him. The smile is less forced now though. There’s no hint of accusation at all in her but a calm acceptance that hits Cullen as hard as waking up with no memories of the night before ever did. “This is good. You need- I’m proud of you, Cullen.”

There’s no lie in her words and Mia busies her fingers with straightening out the wrinkles in the tshirt he wore to bed. Her eyes follow and Cullen sees it when she looks at his neck and flinches away.

Cullen feels foolish for not having thought of it, of what Mia might _think_ when she came in and saw the very obvious signs of how Cullen had spent his time after the group session.

Losing himself in the bodies of others had been an escape. One Cullen only sought when not in his right mind, and Mia knew that. Knew all the ways that Cullen had used to numb himself --to destroy himself, a small voice he ignores puts in-- and had witnessed more than a few unfortunate morning afters. It does not surprise him that she would think the worst now. Cullen hasn’t given her much reason to think otherwise lately.

“Ah,” Cullen clears his throat and reaches up to touch the scratches on the side of his neck with his fingertips. His face burns a bit but he can’t help the crooked smile that spreads across his face. Can’t help the warmth in his chest, because, for the first time in a while, Cullen doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed by what he did the night before. “I, uh, met someone. Before the session, his name is Alistair.”

“Alistair?” Mia tests out the name, an odd expression crossing her face. Surprise, Cullen realizes as she fixes him with a more intent look. Her fingers still on his shoulder. “That’s good.”

The words are cautious and questioning in a way that Cullen refuses to let himself think about right now. Not when he’s thinking of Alistair. “Yes, yes it is. We, uh, I’m meeting him latter. For lunch.”

“That’s good,” Mia repeats herself, but the words are firmer and warmer now than before. She means them, because Cullen’s never known the names of the strangers he’s slept with before. Nevermind actually going out to see them again in the light of day.

It’s shocking how normal of a thing it is, and Cullen watches how this little thing melts away the hesitation in his sister. She smiles at him, bright and loving as she squeezes him in a hug before breaking away to spin back to the stove. When she speaks again her voice is louder and fills the kitchen in a way no one’s voice has for a long time. “So, what is your Alistair like, Cullen? Tell me he’s handsome at least.”

Cullen sighs as Mia begins to pepper him with the type of nosy and meddling questions he’d expect from their mother, but he smiles as he pours them both coffee and answers them to the best of his ability. _His_ Alistair? Maybe, maybe not, but Cullen likes the sound of that, and lunchtime will never arrive soon enough for him.


End file.
